


This Place Is Mine

by LikeSatellites



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Polyamory, blood mention, brief gun violence, changkyun delivers chicken, drug mention, explosions?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 09:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18568171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeSatellites/pseuds/LikeSatellites
Summary: Changkyun has nothing tying him to this place or these people. But he feels the community all around him, like that first time he walked into the bar. The time he found all the tables pushed together, high stools filled with the bikers, their families, their children. Potluck night. It was loud and warm and smoky, but Changkyun had never felt an aura so comforting before.aka kihyun is the chapter president of the local biker gang, hoseok is the sweet one who builds bombs and makes the first move, and changkyun is the guy who delivers chicken in ripped skinny jeans.





	This Place Is Mine

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: sorry this took me 1 million years to finish. if you don't follow me on twitter (@likesatellitez) then you may not know i got engaged recently, and my life is now a hot disaster of wedding planning/trying to afford life!! anyhow, here's this!!!!!!!

“Thirteen orders of soy garlic and two crispy honey,” Changkyun calls out, pushing open the front door to the bar with his back as he steers the carryout bags through the doorway. 

Hardly anyone reacts, as per usual. The Sons of Monsta members linger around at the bar or by the tables, flirting endlessly with the waitresses, who are also gang groupies, fingering the lapels of leather and denim kuttes and giggling like these idiots are the funniest fuckers they’ve ever encountered. 

Hoseok waves him over from the front of the bar. “Oy, kid, nine of those orders are mine,” he says, and Changkyun wants to make a joke but Hoseok is fully capable of devouring nine orders of fried chicken and then some, sucking the juice from the bones, making Changkyun watch him in both admiration and terror. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Minhyuk scoffs. “He hasn’t paid his dues yet, but he thinks we’re gonna feed him all our chicken.”

“Excuse you, I paid my dues this very morning,” Hoseok defends, grabbing Changkyun by the shoulder and reeling him in with the chicken boxes. “One of my collections was late, and I was polite and let him have an extra week.”

“We don’t ask you to be polite, Hoseok. We’re a motorcycle outlaw gang. You were collecting money made in the sale of black market drugs. Someone smuggled coke up their anus for you to eat this chicken.”

“And I’m very grateful,” Hoseok replies, grabbing one of the boxes from the carryout bags and crunching into a wing immediately. 

“Yah, Kihyun, you better get over here before Hoseok dumps all the chicken down his gullet,” Minhyuk shouts over the jukebox rock’n’roll that three of the waitresses are dancing to atop the bar. 

Changkyun ignores the hard clench in his stomach when Kihyun steps over in his cut-off leather jacket, now a vest, sewn with endless patches that declare him the chapter leader of what is irrefutably the most infamous biker gang in the county’s history. 

There’s a plain black shirt underneath the kutte, tucked neatly into a pair of plain blue jeans. Whatever Changkyun imagined the leader of a biker gang would look like, it sure as hell was never someone like Kihyun. Someone who keeps a pack of tissues in his back pocket for messes, like when Hoseok knocks over the mustard. Someone who orders the entire bar fifteen boxes of chicken wings and extras for when their kids show up sometimes. Someone who named his bike Tiger Moth after either the insect or the historical biplane. Changkyun hasn’t thought to ask him, but he’s sure the answer will make him sweat.

Objectively, Kihyun is not all that intimidating. He’s no taller than Changkyun’s 5’9”, and if he carries any sort of physical strength, it isn’t visible in the way that Hoseok or Hyunwoo’s is. 

Subjectively, Kihyun makes Changkyun’s asshole clench in both anticipation and fear. 

Because Changkyun was there, delivering chicken just like this, the night Kihyun ordered the SoM to set fire to the weapons warehouse of the rival EXO gang. Changkyun had pulled up the long gravel path--on his pedal bicycle like a child--unloaded the bags of chicken, and watched as Hoseok and Hyungwon rigged up triggered explosives (after Kihyun checked the interior for signs of life and gave this little wave of his small, pretty hand to say  _ a-okay now _ ). 

Because Kihyun doesn’t do bystanders. 

But Kihyun does order fried chicken to sit and eat against his bike while watching the fiery destruction of enemy property in the middle of the night. 

“You can stay and watch,” Kihyun had said. “It’s kind of pretty in its own way.”

So Changkyun did. Because he isn’t sure there’s any person in the world that Kihyun couldn’t get to stay, if he asked.

Changkyun leaned his bicycle against a far tree on the gravel path, and he stood there beside Kihyun as the explosives were triggered. As gunpowder crackled louder than anything Changkyun had ever heard before. As pieces of sheet metal and rotten wood blew straight up into the air. As the structure collapsed inward and shot flames up into the sky before finally settling like some grotesque July 4th fire show. 

All-in-all, it didn’t take very long for everything to burn. Changkyun was almost sad when it ended, when it was suddenly all quiet, when the guys went back to their bikes and told him to keep the change and get home safe. 

And it was terrible judgement on Kihyun’s part to invite Changkyun to watch that time. Because now Changkyun dreams about the heat of flames licking up his cheeks and of Kihyun’s fingers when they accidentally found his as he reached for another box of chicken to hand off to the others. Kihyun’s unexpectedly small, delicate fingers. 

Kihyun must see it in him. See it in Changkyun’s starry-eyes every time he steps into the bar or the garage where they hold weekly meetings. 

Because now his rule about bystanders applies to Changkyun. After nearly eight months of delivering chicken, eight months of what Changkyun assumed was camaraderie, eight months of Changkyun sinking deeper and deeper into his crush.

“Thanks, kid,” Kihyun says, handing off a wad of bills. “Get home safe.”

Changkyun pockets the cash but lingers there as they pass around the boxes of chicken. “I’m done for the night, so I thought I’d--”

“Members and staff only,” Kihyun cuts in. “Goodnight, kid.”

“Wasn’t members and staff that time you told me I could stay.”

“Sorry for overpromising, then,” Kihyun says, coldly gesturing to the door. 

Changkyun slings his insulated carryout delivery bag over his shoulder and wrenches open the front door. 

He’s  _ going _ to be invited in next time. 

 

When he runs into Hoseok at the grocery store, the idea hits him. 

Hoseok is pushing a cart and carrying a hand basket at the same time. There are three gallons of milk in the cart, along with what might be the entire frozen meat aisle and six boxes of Elio’s toaster oven pizza. The hand basket is just loaves of sliced white bread. 

“Hey, kid,” Hoseok says, waving over a pyramid display of soup cans. “Didn’t realize we lived in the same ‘hood.”

“Just moved a couple weeks ago,” Changkyun replies, tucking the cans of soup under his armpits. 2/$5 sale. Changkyun loves soup. Efficient food you can drink through a straw.

“It’s nice here, right? Quieter but more convenient, I think. I used to live uptown, near the rest of the guys, but I hate all the noise. I’m a sensitive sleeper.”

Changkyun wonders why Hoseok is telling him this. 

“Sorry, I’m rambling I guess.” Hoseok eyes the cans of soup under Changkyun’s armpits. “Wanna throw those in my cart? Seems a little…heavy for you.”

Changkyun looks down at his pale noodle arms and then over at Hoseok’s. His forearm is pulsing and flexing under the weight of the basket. His biceps are swollen enough to tug the seams of his gray shirt impossibly wide. The fabric looks moments away from tearing. Changkyun swallows thickly. 

“Yeah, sure.” The soup cans fall with a few loud  _ clink _ s into Hoseok’s cart, beside two boxes of family-sized microwave lasagna. “I’ll just grab them out at checkout.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can handle a couple cans of soup. You want anything else? I’m not doing anything today.” He says it like he’d be willing to spend the rest of his Saturday helping Changkyun grocery shop. 

“I don’t need help. I’m not a child, despite the SoM nickname I’ve unwillingly been given,” Changkyun huffs. 

“What,  _ kid _ ?” Hoseok laughs, and it’s sweet and bright. He chucks two fingers under Changkyun’s chin and clicks his tongue. “I think it’s cute. You’re cute. The guys and I joke you’re our unofficial mascot.”

Changkyun feels something warm and molasses-thick fill up his chest. They talk about him. Hoseok thinks he’s cute.

“You want to hang out after this?” Changkyun asks, grabbing a box of microwave kettle corn from a sale display. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “Movie?”

Hoseok hooks his arm around Changkyun’s neck and laughs, breath warm against his temple. “You’re too cute, how can I say no?”

And Hoseok buys his soup. The popcorn and frosted sugar cookies that Changkyun insisted on for their impromptu movie night, as well. They walk over to Hoseok’s apartment, which is in the big luxury building that Changkyun went to an open house for, before realizing the apartments cost twice his monthly budget. 

He whistles under his breath as they step into the mirrored elevator in a bay of six identical elevators, each stretching up all twenty-six floors. “Didn’t realize being a vigilante motorcycle gang member paid so well, or I would’ve skipped university altogether.”

Hoseok hip bumps him, and Changkyun comically goes flying to the other side of the elevator and tries not to be aroused by how easily he was moved. “I do have a day job, thanks. I’m an electrician. No university necessary, and I make close to six figures.”

“Ugh, damn you and your practical skills,” Changkyun groans, following Hoseok out into the hallway on the eighteenth floor. It looks like a hotel hallway. Navy carpeted floor. Weird stock art prints of landscapes that probably don’t exist anywhere in plastic wood frames. “Is that why you’re the bomb guy?”

Hoseok smirks, fingerprinting his front door open with a jingle of electronic bells. “It isn’t  _ not _ why I’m the bomb guy.”

The apartment is big and open. Loft style. Changkyun remembers loving that from the open house he went to months ago. The ceilings stretch high above their heads, at least sixteen or seventeen feet tall. The far wall behind the couch is exposed red brick, and the beams above them are all dark natural wood. 

It would be incredibly stylish, if not for the row of motorcycles and long raw wood shelf of action figures. 

“You call  _ me _ kid,” Changkyun scoffs, gesturing at a hot pink motorcycle gleaming and waxy beneath the recessed lights. It has a vinyl decal of a white bunny on the fuel tank. He gestures specifically at the decal. “Really?”

“I’m the Bomb Bunny,” Hoseok admits with a shrug.

“The...Bomb...Bunny,” Changkyun repeats, feeling a snort vibrating through his entire being. 

Hoseok holds up a two-fingered V behind his head like ears. His fingers bend and twitch. He grins. Even in his skin-tight gray turtleneck and impossibly tighter black leather-effect jeans, Hoseok looks cute.

Changkyun is unfortunately endeared. 

“Fuck, I hate that you pull that off,” Changkyun sighs in defeat. 

“Now you.”

Changkyun crosses his arms over his chest. “Nuh uh.”

Hoseok nods at his 75 inch television. “If you wanna play Smash, you gotta do it.”

Changkyun tugs at the hem of his ratty green flannel. “I’m dressed like a hoodlum, and you want me to do aegyo?”

Hoseok takes a seat on his large luxurious leather couch and stretches his long legs out onto the white birch coffee table. “I sure do.”

Changkyun feels stupid. He feels like the mascot Hoseok told him they joked about him being. 

Something must show on his face because Hoseok says quickly, “Sorry,  _ shit _ , you don’t have to. I was just joking around because you’re cute. Seriously, it’s chill. Just come sit and stop looking so uncomfortably constipated.”

Changkyun narrows his eyes, squints bitterly, and holds a V up to his mouth, tongue draped down between his fingers. “Eat my ass, jerk.”

Hoseok blinks at him. “Instead’a Smash or in addition?”

Changkyun blinks back. “...Whu...uh…” Time stretches in tense but sexy silence. “Addition?”

Hoseok grins, cheeks pulling taut and high over his cheekbones. He holds his arms out. 

Changkyun doesn’t know what he’s doing. It feels like an accident but maybe the happy kind like when they accidentally give too many nuggets in your order. 

So, for a blissful moment, Changkyun doesn’t think about it. He crawls into Hoseok’s lap, feels the soft leather of the couch beneath his ripped-knee jean holes, and he grips Hoseok’s thick shoulders just to know what it feels like. It feels terrifying. 

“Smash then smash? Or smash then Smash?” Hoseok teases.

Changkyun doesn’t care. “Fuck, I don’t care.”

Hoseok grabs Changkyun under the thighs, grips his ass, and Changkyun is exhilarated. This is better than watching the EXO warehouse burn down. This is real. This is happening to him and no one is telling him to leave.

Hoseok’s leather couch has individual reclining sections like some kind of fucking spaceship, and Changkyun finds himself naked on his knees above Hoseok’s face. Hoseok licks at his bare skin, and it’s odd and wet and tickles. “Can I just...just my dick for right now?”

Hoseok looks up at him from between his legs. “You okay? First time?”

“Just with the...yeah. Just with the tongue near my asshole, yeah. I think I’m just aware that I haven’t like...prepared or anything,” Changkyun admits, feeling silly and young.

Hoseok scratches at Changkyun’s thighs and up to his hips. “Hey, it’s fine. Another time, yeah?”

Changkyun shivers under Hoseok’s hands and breathes out a quiet, “I hope so.”

Hoseok laughs, breath warm where his mouth is so close to Changkyun’s half-hard cock. “C’mere then.”

So Changkyun has Hoseok guide him by the hips until his dick is deep in Hoseok’s throat. His hands stay on Changkyun’s hips, rocking his body in a smooth rhythm into Hoseok’s mouth. He’s calm about it, like he enjoys this part. His hands are warm when they slip back to cup Changkyun’s ass, and Hoseok must like how it feels because he hums, pleased, around Changkyun’s cock. 

Changkyun tries to pick up the speed, but Hoseok holds him in a steady, controlled rhythm. Changkyun’s head tips back as he rolls his hips, feeling the tight warm slick wetness of Hoseok’s mouth, the way his tongue flicks at up under the soft ridge at the head of his cock every so often because it makes Changkyun’s breath catch on his ribs. 

It’s probably the most relaxed sex he can ever remember having. It feels like something familiar and casual but also comforting in how dedicated Hoseok seems to be to making Changkyun feel everything and feel it well. Changkyun remembers the odd showiness of his previous partners. 

Guys who wanted him to moan too soon. Guys who grabbed the lube before Changkyun was even hard. Guys who looked at him like they were looking through him, seeing someone else, or seeing something else in him than what Changkyun actually was.

Hoseok looks up from between Changkyun’s soft thighs, and he looks happy to be there. He squeezes Changkyun’s ass and laughs around his cock when Changkyun’s nose scrunches up with a sneeze mid-thrust. 

Changkyun swallows down his sneeze, but Hoseok has already pulled off his cock to laugh up at him. 

“You’re too cute.”

“Is this a kink? Do you get off on teasing me?”

“Kind of, yeah,” Hoseok says, flicking his tongue at the head of Changkyun’s cock and holding him in place with strong veiny hands on his waist. Changkyun shudders.

“I will sneeze on you,” he threatens.

Hoseok squeezes his ass again. “You’re so soft. This is a real prime tush.”

Changkyun leans in to tug on Hoseok’s lip with his teeth. “Please don’t call it my tush. That’s what my grandma calls it.”

Hoseok dips his fingers between Changkyun’s cheeks, and Changkyun wriggles, ticklish. “Bootylicious. Butt-tastic. Ass-pecially bootiful.”

Changkyun  _ thunks _ his fist down on Hoseok’s chest. “Please get me off, preferably  _ before _ I murder you, since I’m not into snuff.”

“Sure sure, gimme one sec,” Hoseok says, closing his eyes and just palming Changkyun’s bare ass for another minute. 

Changkyun  _ thunks _ on his barrel chest again. “I  _ will _ fight you, and I  _ will _ lose, but it will be worth it.”

Hoseok laughs and tugs Changkyun’s hips forward again. 

It doesn’t take long for Changkyun to cum. It’s been a while since anyone has seen let alone touched his bare dick. Probably since that time he went out with Jooheon and gave head to a guy who called him ‘Chang-gun’ because he clearly didn’t hear Changkyun over the music and also clearly didn’t know Korean. The head wasn’t great. The guy wore a condom, which was smart, but it tasted old. Especially latexy. Changkyun couldn’t really get into it.

But Hoseok is hard not to get into. 

He’s so solid and firm and warm and smiles a lot. He smiles like someone who knows why he smiles. It’s annoying and adorable all at once. Changkyun wants to question it, like when someone shows him a video of a dog’s lips pulled up into the semblance of a smile, and Changkyun can say  _ It’s just a muscle thing. It doesn’t know what smiling is _ . 

But Hoseok knows. 

So Changkyun cums pretty quickly, all things considered, and Hoseok swallows like it’s no big deal, and he holds Changkyun in his lap until he stops shaking and panting like a dog in a hot car.

“Cute,” Hoseok says again, petting his hair. 

“Gimme a minute and then I’ll,” Changkyun pants, gesturing at Hoseok’s crotch, “you know.”

“It’s cool. Let’s play a couple games and see where you’re at.”

Changkyun shifts a little in Hoseok’s lap. He’s definitely hard. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I don’t want it to feel like one of those trades. Like, oh I got you off, so now it’s your turn. It should be more spontaneous than that.” Hoseok picks Changkyun up at the hips and moves him to the cushion beside him on the couch. “So I’ll go brush my teeth, make some popcorn, and then whoop your ass.”

Changkyun scoffs. “You wish,  _ Bomb Bunny _ .”

Hoseok sighs. “I regret telling you that.”

“You bet you do.”

 

They play Super Smash Bros for three hours. Changkyun wins the first game and is supremely smug all through the second game, during which he is promptly magic hammer-ed off the edge of the Pokemon Stadium and into oblivion. 

For another two hours and fifty minutes, they throw kernels of popcorn at one another, and Changkyun thrusts the sole of his socked foot into Hoseok’s face to distract him. When this doesn’t work, Changkyun splays himself across Hoseok’s lap and nuzzles the side of his cheek into Hoseok’s dick through his pants. 

Hoseok yanks at Changkyun’s hair and tsks him but doesn’t make any further move to stop him. Changkyun presses his cheek in against the fake leather, and it squeaks a little when it meets his skin. It feels soft and warm and smooth, and Changkyun finds himself having a pretty good time just nuzzling his face into Hoseok’s crotch while letting himself get sucker-punched across Luigi’s Mansion. 

Hoseok just laughs and peeks down at him every so often, but Changkyun can feel him getting hard again. 

“You smell good,” Changyun admits at hour three, pressing his face against the sliver of bare skin above the waistband of Hoseok’s pants. 

“Clean, I hope,” Hoseok jokes, weaving his fingers into Changkyun’s hair and letting the Select a Player screen stay frozen on the television. Changkyun feels Hoseok’s nails against his scalp, and he could purr if it were physically something humans did. He tries to simulate the sound with something like a gargle and then a tongue roll. 

“Mm, yeah. Like fabric softener. Do you use fabric softener? It reminds me of my grandparents. You know, that I’m an Adult Who Has It All Together scent.” Changkyun reaches out for Hoseok’s fly, undoing the button and tugging down the zipper slowly, as if trying not to draw attention to himself, even though Hoseok is obviously looking right at him. Like when a dog drinks from its owner’s water glass, left in the armchair cup holder, even though its bowl is on the floor right beside the chair; and it looks up at its owner like ‘oh, my, you’ve caught me,’ as if it didn’t know it was being watched.

Hoseok seems intrigued and amused, smile curling his lips as Changkyun tucks his fingers between the slit at the front of Hoseok’s boxer shorts to pull out his cock. 

“Wow, you’re really just going for it, huh?” 

Changkyun nods, circling his thumb over the head of Hoseok’s cock with one hand and feeling it harden beneath the fingers of his other hand. Hoseok is shaved or waxed--Changkyun couldn’t tell the difference if he tried--and his skin is so soft and pale and the vein running up the underside is thick and warm. 

“Soft,” Changkyun mumbles, wetting his lips between ducking down to take the flushed pink skin into his mouth. It’s been a while--again, since that time with the guy who couldn’t understand his name--since he’s had a dick in his mouth, but this feels different somehow. There’s no urgency. Just Hoseok petting his hair and thumbing at the back of his neck, raising goosebumps as his thumb nail traces the shell of Changkyun’s ear. 

“You’re somehow even still cute with a dick in your mouth,” Hoseok sighs, hips slowly lifting, and Changkyun lets him just gently thrust deeper into his throat. 

It feels so intimate but also so comfortable. The Select a Player menu music is still playing behind them. The room smells like kettle corn and burnt sugar at the bottom of the bag and Hoseok’s clean, oh-so-soft skin. 

It’s easy to forget that Hoseok is the one who rigged those bombs that blew shards of metal and wood and glass straight up into the air in a burst of flames so hot that sometimes Changkyun imagines he can still feel them on his cheeks. 

It’s also easy to forget that Changkyun approached Hoseok in the first place for one reason, that reason being let into the SHOOT OUT saloon. That reason really being Kihyun. 

Part of him feels guilty. The guilt is plaque between his teeth, though. Something he wouldn’t really think about or notice normally. 

The other part of him feels good. Feels warm and wanted and  _ in _ . 

Hoseok cums with his hands woven sweetly through the strands of hair at the back of Changkyun’s skull, hips shuddering beneath him on the couch. He cums and holds his cupped palms beneath Changkyun’s mouth, like he could spit Hoseok’s cum back up into his own hands if he wanted to. Hoseok, who had swallowed without even a question.

Changkyun shakes his head and dutifully swallows. Hoseok cups his palms around Changkyun’s cheeks and squishes them in until his lips purse. 

“You wanna come hang out at the bar tonight?” He thumbs away the spit rimming Changkyun’s swollen, chapped lips and kisses his forehead. “I’m sure the guys would love to see you.”

Something hopeful plants itself between Changkyun’s heart and his diaphragm, and he feels its roots latching in, shooting deeper and deeper until he doesn’t think he could pull them out if he tried. 

 

Changkyun has never sat on a motorcycle.

He admits as much when Hoseok hands Changkyun a spare helmet. 

“I’ve never, uh,” he motions at the bike, so much beefier and faster and more dangerous than his own pedal bike. He remembers stories of helmet-less riders found smashed to bits on highways outside of town. 

He remembers the thick purring hum of Kihyun’s engine as it pulled away from a smoldering pile of gunpowder and ash. 

Hoseok smiles like  _ no pressure _ .

Changkyun climbs on. And coils his arms around Hoseok’s middle. And feels the muscles flexing beneath his forearms as Hoseok bends over to nudge at the kickstand with the toe of his boot and then turns the engine over. Changkyun feels it thrum to life beneath his seat. Ticklish. Exhilarating. 

He breathes out against Hoseok’s neck and presses in closer. Hoseok laughs aloud, loud enough to be heard over the engine. “Hold on, kid,” he says, before shifting out of neutral. 

Changkyun isn’t ready for how the wind whips at his face. How sharply the machine turns out onto the road from Hoseok’s apartment parking complex. It’s cold, stinging at his skin until his cheeks and chin and nose and ears are practically numb. 

The sign above the bar was probably once lit up bright white neon, but now it just stands there in the dark over the awning, the curling glass spelling out SHOOT OUT SALOON. Changkyun scoffs every time he sees it, reminiscent of cheesy Westerns and not at all reminiscent of the actual interior, which is 90% scuffed wood flooring and sticky laminate tabletops and 10% pinball machines and bar games and a single jukebox that Changkyun isn’t sure actually takes requests. It seems to always be playing that one Aerosmith song.

“Don’t be nervous,” Hoseok says, gently nudging Changkyun at his lower back to get him to open the door. “You’ve been here so many times. This time you’re just not delivering chicken.”

“Right,” Changkyun says, fingertips stinging with some kind of anxious energy that’s probably entirely to due with the fact that Kihyun explicitly told him he isn’t allowed to be here. 

“Kihyun isn’t here,” Hoseok replies, laughing, steering Changkyun to the front of the bar. “You look so spooked. He isn’t even scary.”

“And you say this as…?”

“I don’t know, try best friend from childhood slash fuckbuddy?”

Changkyun’s breath catches in his throat. “Fuck... fuckbuddy, huh?”

“What? Yeah, it’s not a big deal. We’ve known each other a long time, and Kihyun has a hard time trusting people. We get along. Always have. Compatibility is hard to find.”

Changkyun folds his arms over the sticky top of the bar and finally releases a shaky exhale. “Makes sense. So you just...what? Collect fuckbuddies here?”

Hoseok ruffles Changkyun’s hair and comes up right behind him, caging him in against the bartop. “If you can call two people a collection, sure.”

“Two people including me or?”

“I mean I’ve sucked Hyunwoo’s dick a couple times before he met the Mrs., so maybe two and a half.”

Changkyun turns, letting Hoseok cage him in face to face. He winds his arms around Hoseok’s neck, let’s himself feel some kind of special that he’s one of two and a half. “Me and Kihyun are nothing alike. You must have interesting taste, hm?”

“You’re both pretty small.”

Changkyun swats at Hoseok’s big hulking barrel chest. It hurts him more than Hoseok. Probably. His fingertips are burning. “I’m perfectly average,” Changkyun declares. 

“Cute,” Minhyuk chimes, standing suddenly beside them at the bar. “No chicken tonight, Changkyunnie?”

Hoseok slings his thick arm around Changkyun’s neck. “He’s with me tonight, so don’t be mean.”

“Or, what? The last time we got in a fight, you cried,” Minhyuk scoffs.

“You brought up my childhood guinea pig and implied I had been  _ negligent _ !”

“All is fair in love and war,” Minhyuk says solemnly. 

“I’m surprised at you, Minhyuk,” Changkyun says, shaking his head. “If you can’t win fair and square…”

“Oh, he’s ballsy now that you’ve fucked him, Hoseokie,” Minhyuk replies, reaching out to pinch Changkyun’s cheek. 

“He didn’t even fuck me yet,” Changkyun exclaims, much too loudly, clearly heard over the din of the bar conversation and the sounds of that one Aerosmith song again, “so imagine what I’ll be like then.”

“Golly, we simply can’t wait.”

Changkyun’s stomach sinks so low he feels like he could poop it out. 

“Oy, Kihyun, can you come teach this little biker bitch that he has to respect group hierarchy?”

“Shouldn’t that have been Hoseok’s job before bringing him to our bar?” Kihyun asks, and his voice is so cold, so controlled. 

Hoseok just snorts a laugh and turns around to order a round of Fireball shots (which are, according to Kihyun, apparently Hoseok’s favorite because they taste like this gum that he used to chew as a kid). 

“Lay off, guys. Changkyun is a good kid. I’m pretty sure he just had his first motorcycle ride on the way over. He’s pure.”

“I’m not pure! I was just sitting on your face!” Changkyun huffs, wishing immediately to snatch the words back from the air and shove them deep deep down into his throat. Maybe gag himself on them forever.

Minhyuk seems to find this fucking hysterical, shooting back his Fireball shot immediately and ordering another. “Oh, this is so good. It’s been so long since we’ve had a biker bitch baby.”

“I don’t think we’ve ever had one. Changkyun, can you even name a single part of a motorcycle?” Hoseok asks, handing Changkyun his shot, filled to the brim with a warm amber liquid that smells strongly of cinnamon. 

“Engine,” Changkyun replies smugly, throwing back the Fireball and only a little bit regretting it as it burns sweet and spicy down his esophagus. 

“He’s a little bratty, isn’t he?” Minhyuk teases, handing Changkyun a second shot. “Kihyun doesn’t tolerate brats.”

Changkyun smirks over his shot glass. “I wonder how you’re still here then.”

The corner of Kihyun’s lips twitches. Something proud awakens in Changkyun’s stomach. Something determined. 

“We’ll see how confident you are after I own your ass at pool,” Minhyuk responds, gesturing with flourish to the old, peeling billiards table. 

Changkyun grabs another shot from Hoseok’s hand, one that he’d surely been about to drink himself, and he shoots it back quickly. “You’re on. My mom is a state billiards champion, and I spent many hours holding her ashtray and watching her play.”

There’s something tragic in that but Changkyun won’t confront it just yet. Not here. Instead, he grabs a handful of peanuts from the little plastic bowl on the bar top and steps around Hoseok to go to the pool table. 

They gather a small crowd. Everyone is curious about Hoseok’s new fuckbuddy. The chicken delivery boy. Curious about why he belongs there in their bar. Changkyun doesn’t know if he could name a single other part of a motorcycle, and he’s honestly proud of himself for knowing they have engines. Handlebars? Brakes? He couldn’t say. 

But he can feel the thrum of Hoseok’s bike at his core now, and he can remember the little hint of a smile at Kihyun’s lips. He’s here with Hoseok. He’s inside the bar and Kihyun isn’t telling him to leave. 

Minhyuk clearly didn’t anticipate Changkyun having any pool skills. And Changkyun may not know anything about motorcycles, but he knows his way around a pool table. 

There was a billiard hall four blocks from his apartment growing up. It was dimly lit except right over the tables, and it always smelled like smoke, back before they banned smoking indoors city-wide. They would actually let Changkyun pick up his mother’s beer from the bar and cart it over to her so she wouldn’t have to stop playing. He was a child, but they loved him there. At maybe ten or eleven years old he was allowed to start learning how to play. 

He could barely reach the table top at that time, but not now. Now he knows how to angle his body over the table, how to lean the cue against his fingers, how to position the tip of the cue against the ball to get it to move exactly where he needs. 

Changkyun didn’t grow up with a family in the Sons of Monsta, but he isn’t some naive kid. He grew up under the smoky lights of a billiard hall, and, yeah, his dad is still back in Korea. He hasn’t seen him since he was thirteen. Changkyun has delivered chicken for six years now. 

He hasn’t let himself think too much about the reason why he wants to fit in here so badly. He’s sure he’d come to some sad tragic conclusion about abandonment, about longing for community, about Issues™, about wanting to be Seen. Now that he’s here, he can feel Kihyun’s eyes on his back as he bends over the table to line up his next shot. Hoseok is beside him, whistling and hooting and shouting praise that Changkyun doesn’t hear so much as feel, like warm, smoky light high in his cheekbones. 

He smirks. Pulls back the cue. Shoots. 

Sinks the final billiard ball. 

Hoseok comes up behind him, lifting him into the air. He’s elated. He’s surrounded by people shouting. Sons of Monsta members in their customized kuttes. Some leather, some denim. Patches sewn tightly in place. Hyunwoo’s wife has her “Ol’ Lady” patch, and he has his matching “I <3 My Ol’ Lady” patch. 

Changkyun has nothing tying him to this place or these people. But he feels the community all around him, like that first time he walked into the bar. The time he found all the tables pushed together, high stools filled with the bikers, their families, their children. Potluck night. It was loud and warm and smoky, but Changkyun had never felt an aura so comforting before. 

 

Hoseok walks Changkyun to the door after parking his bike. It’s late--just after 3am--and Changkyun is still a little tipsy and smells like smoke and leather. 

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Hoseok says, ruffling Changkyun’s hair as they reach the front door to his apartment complex. 

“Thanks for getting me in. Last time I was there, Kihyun made it seem very exclusive,” Changkyun admits, knowing he’s only admitting as such because he’s still a little drunk. 

Hoseok just laughs and thumbs at Changkyun’s chin. “Kihyun is just a worrywort. We’re members. We know what we’re getting into, always. He ensures that we’re equipped with whatever skills and tools we need to be safe. But he doesn’t know you. And you don’t know us, not really, not yet. He just doesn’t want you to get into something you can’t handle.”

“I get it, but it’s dumb. I’m an adult.”

“Hey, at least he cares. There are club chapter Presidents that could give a flying fuck what happens to their members, you know? I’ve known him all my life. He’s good people. Really good people. I’ve loved him since we were kids. I’d follow him anywhere.”

“Don’t you guys peddle hard drugs and stuff?”

“It’s a family business, what can I say? Kihyun gets it from his dad. He’s serious about that no casualties rule, and that makes us different in at least one major way. You know, Kihyun not wishing death upon innocents.”

Hoseok leans down and hovers his face close, his nose brushing the tip of Changkyun’s own. 

Changkyun goes cross-eyed trying to keep focus somewhere on Hoseok’s face. “What? Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Who?”

Hoseok licks at his bottom lip, eyes unwavering from Changkyun’s own. “Kihyun. When I say his name you twitch a little.”

“What? That’s dumb. I’ve hardly spoken ten words to him altogether.”

“So? I’ve never spoken to Tom Hardy, but I’d let him take me to poundtown.” Hoseok cages Changkyun in against the door, forearms rippling in a way that makes Changkyun want to say  _ would you like to come up for some ramen and ??? _ .

“That sounds like a personal problem.” He ducks beneath one of Hoseok’s arms swiftly, hand on the doorknob in an instant. “Why? Tryna pawn me off on some other schmuck?”

Hoseok coils an arm low around Changkyun’s waist and tucks his lips in close to Changkyun’s ear. “And who says that I’m pawning? Kihyun’s a good fuck, and he’ll always take us to brunch on sundays if we ask nicely. I’m thinking more of a  _ collaboration _ .” His hips wriggle in against Changkyun’s thigh, and if Hoseok weren’t some massive example of Beef Changkyun Would Fuck Right Now, Changkyun would throttle him, but unfortunately Hoseok is  _ Prime  _ Beef Changkyun Really Wants To Fuck Right Now.

In response, Changkyun’s own spit slides down the wrong pipe, and he coughs out loudly, hacking into his elbow. “Is this an SoM hazing ritual or something?”

Hoseok laughs and reaches to massage the back of Changkyun’s neck. “Hey, you okay? I was 70% joking, if that helps. Please don’t die, I really enjoy your soft tush and company.”

Changkyun feels a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “In what order?”

Hoseok lifts a hand up over his head. “Soft tush.” And then drops his hand down to his waist. “Company.”

“Mhmm, figures,” Changkyun snips teasingly, waving his front door key at Hoseok’s face. “This is why my momma said to stay away from _ nappeun namja _ .”

“She did not,” Hoseok laughs, flicking Changkyun in the center of his forehead. 

“You’re right. My mom loved bad boys. It’s in my blood.”

Hoseok gets this look on his face, then. Somewhere between pity and amusement. Wrinkles between his brows. Wrinkles at the corners of his lips. “You’re not using me as self-flagellation or anything, right? I like you, you’re cute and all, but I don’t like being some trope to fill a Mommy Issues void.”

“Nah, my mom and I are cool. This isn’t like that. I went through that phase. I really had no intention of fucking any of you. You’re hot, and I like that you sometimes look like this hentai picture of a buff bunny I saw online once, but you don’t scare me.”

“Do you want me to scare you?”

Changkyun opens his front door and puts a foot inside. “You could try. Now that I’ve seen your aegyo, I’m not sure you’d be capable.”

Hoseok laughs, and it’s warm and comforting. “Goodnight, Changkyun.”

“Goodnight, Hoseok. Get home safe on that death trap.”

“You love my death trap.”

Changkyun hums in response and shuts the door behind him.

 

Changkyun really wasn’t scared. He wasn’t. Not of any of them. Not really.

There are a lot of things that terrify him. Possums when their eyes reflect his cell phone flashlight when he takes the trash out at night. That moment at the bottom of the stairs when you have no idea if someone is behind you. Sending a text message while drunk and then realizing a split second later that you sent it to the wrong contact. 

Changkyun has fears. 

 

It happens one night, two weeks after Changkyun’s first date with Hoseok. He’s at SHOOT OUT, teaching Hyunwoo how to do the stanky leg. He’s a bit toasted, if he’s honest with himself. 

Kihyun looks so good. 

He’s got this heathered gray t-shirt on, tucked in at the front into a pair of tight black jeans. His kutte is loose over his frame. There’s a knife holster at his hip. 

Changkyun never considered himself a ‘knife person,’ but maybe he’s a knife person???

“I might be a knife person,” Changkyun muses, as Hyunwoo wiggles his leg in a circle loosely on the floor by the jukebox, where Changkyun had recently discovered the lost Stanky Leg track among all the Aerosmith. 

“Knives are cool. You want one? Kihyun has like 500,” Minhyuk says, handing Changkyun a beer and clapping like a polite wedding guest to the bad rap track while Hyunwoo dances. 

“My mom got me a Swiss Army knife when I was a kid. For when I walked home alone from boy scouts.”

Minhyuk gives a wry smile just so Changkyun knows he’s restraining himself from mocking him. 

Changkyun shrugs. “You may laugh, but I know how to start a fire with almost anything.”

“So does Hoseok. That’s why he’s the explosions guy. Is that why y’all love to fuck? Because you like fires?” 

“No, it’s because we both have magnificent tushes,” Changkyun snips, smugly. 

“Fair,” Minhyuk replies. 

“Hoseok’s tush is solid stone marble,” Kihyun says, suddenly far too close and far too aware of the conversation than Changkyun anticipated. 

“Very shapely stone.”

“I agree.”

Changkyun and Kihyun’s eyes meet from opposite sides of Hyunwoo mid-dance. The song ends. Hyunwoo, oblivious, steps away to change the song, leaving Changkyun and Kihyun an awkward distance apart, neither close enough nor far away enough to be casual. 

“You know, I--” Kihyun starts, something softening in his gaze.

Before the first round of gunfire begins.

Glass shatters inward, and Hyunwoo yells, “IT’S YG, GET DOWN.”

Changkyun has never heard Hyunwoo yell before, and he realizes he wishes he’d never had to.

There is a sharp jabbing pain against Changkyun’s back after he wheels around to face the window. He collapses to the floor under the weight of Kihyun’s body slam.

Kihyun, now behind him, nods his head toward the back door. “Get out.”

Changkyun is shaking. “I can’t leave you guys, I--”

“You have no weapon and no protection,” Kihyun hisses. “Go out to the back alley. There’s a set of doors down to the basement. It’s safe there. Do  _ not _ look back. Do  _ not _ stand up.”

Changkyun’s chin quivers, but he starts to crawl along the wood floor between men firing round after round of bullets through the broken glass. Shells drop along Changkyun’s path. Everything smells burnt. But just as Kihyun instructed, he refuses the urge to glance back to check on the guys. He refuses to lift up higher than his knees to twist open the heavy brass knob to the back alley.

He crawls out onto the asphalt, and it’s raining. He’s drenched in an instant, and the sounds of gunfire are loud even here, behind the solid metal door in the quiet of the late evening. Even though there’s no gunfire out here, Changkyun can’t get himself to walk to the basement doors. He doesn’t think he could if he tried. The urgent, solid sound of Kihyun’s command rings through the marrow of his bones. 

So he crawls. In the rain. 

The basement door has a rusty metal door handle. Looks like a tornado shelter. One that requires Changkyun to put his entire body weight into twisting to lift the doors up and open. It’s loud. But not loud enough to cover the gunshots. It’s only been two minutes or so, but time seems to be stretching ever thinner and longer the more shots go off. 

Changkyun struggles with the slippery, rusted doors, wrenching them open and slipping between, down onto the cement steps. 

The doors slam down hard over his head, and he makes sure to shut them tight behind him. 

There’s hardly anything down here. Extra kegs of beer. Boxes of liquor handles. Dust.

Changkyun isn’t sure why he anticipated a full arsenal of weapons and drugs. Kihyun isn’t the type of fool to hide those things directly beneath their local gang bar. Minhyuk, maybe. 

But not Kihyun.

Changkyun curls up behind the line of kegs and covers his ears with his cupped palms. Everything rushes in anyhow. Muffled. Gunfire through the surface of a swimming pool.

Changkyun zones out, shaking.

When he comes to, there’s a hand on his knee. 

Changkyun pries his eyes open and drops his hands from his ears. 

“It’s okay now.” Kihyun. There’s blood on his cheek. The side of his ear must’ve been grazed because it’s gushing blood. “Come with me.”

Changkyun grabs at Kihyun’s hand as he turns away. “Everyone else?”

Kihyun just nods at the door. “First, come with me.”

So he follows. Back out into the alley, where the rain hasn’t ceased, and it briefly washes the blood from Kihyun’s skin enough for Changkyun to see that a chunk is missing.

There’s another door in the alley that doesn’t lead to the basement or the bar, and Kihyun leads Changkyun through it and up a set of rickety wooden steps. At the top, there’s another solid metal door. The kinds that are made to keep sound out or keep sound in. 

“Is this where you live?”

Kihyun shrugs. “Sometimes.”

Inside, there’s a soft, well-used black leather couch, a small television set perched atop an even smaller IKEA console table, and a double bed pushed up against the wall. There’s a small bathroom with the door ajar, and he can see the old cracked baby blue tiles of the floor, leading to a boxy glass shower.

“Safe house?” 

Kihyun nods, gesturing at the couch. “Sit, Changkyun.”

He obeys. The leather wrinkles easily beneath him. Changkyun’s hands won’t stop shaking, so he settles them on his knees, gripping his kneecaps tight enough to whiten his knuckles.

“Everyone is fine, Changkyun,” Kihyun says, dropping down heavily beside him on the couch, heaving out a shaky sigh of relief. His hands come up to his face, massaging his temples, coming away wet with blood.

Changkyun grabs Kihyun’s wrists, pulls his hands away from his face. “You’re smearing it.”

Kihyun’s gaze falls to his bloody fingertips and palms. “It’ll come off.”

“Who was that?”

“YG. Much larger gang a couple cities over. Looks like they’ve teamed up with EXO and are helping them get revenge for the warehouse. It...I...wasn’t anticipating anything like it.”

“Is everyone safe now?”

Kihyun swallows heavily. “Minhyuk is at the hospital, getting stitched up, but otherwise we’re all okay.”

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a particularly malicious ghost?”

Kihyun turns to face him. “I almost had a casualty.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t belong here, Changkyun. You’re a good kid. You’re sweet and young and--”

Changkyun scoffs and squeezes one of Kihyun’s hands. “I grew up here too, Kihyun. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen bullets.”

“But they were probably never aimed at you.”

“Did you kill them?”

Kihyun looks away, over toward the bathroom as he fingers the neck of his t-shirt. “I need to shower. I hate feeling it crusting over.”

“My phone is still down there. I can’t contact Hoseok. Does he know I’m safe?”

Kihyun stands, and his knees wobble beneath him. Changkyun has never noticed before how thin he is. How sometimes he can look weak, despite the solidity of his voice. “I told him. He’s with Minhyuk now, but he’ll come for you tomorrow.”

One step toward the bathroom. Two. Three. 

Kihyun drops to his knees, and the floor groans beneath the sudden weight. 

Changkyun scrambles off the couch after him. “Hey, hey. You--”

Kihyun is crying. His eyes are dark in the windowless room, pupils wide, and there are tear tracks carving their way through the smears of blood on his high, sharp cheekbones. 

“What the fuck?” Kihyun hisses to himself. “What the...what the  _ fuck _ ? I was raised here. I was raised in the Sons, and I’ve never been so fucking scared. Never. Not once. I fucking vomited in the alley on my way to get you. And I didn’t wipe--I didn’t wipe my mouth. I saw Minhyuk’s whole fucking thigh split open. I saw...I saw his goddamn fucking  _ bone _ . I’ve known him since we were infants, and I’ve never seen his fucking  _ skeleton _ before. You don’t understand, Changkyun. You don’t understand how hard it is to love someone and know you will lead them into the worst fucking kinds of danger.”

Changkyun emphatically murmurs, “They trust you to keep them safe. Hoseok loves you  _ so _ much, Kihyun. When he talks about you, it’s like he’s talking about fucking Edison and Tesla.”

“I know they do. I know he does. I love them all, too, and it’s terrifying.”

Changkyun wants to reach out and touch him, but Kihyun has always been so forbidden. 

His kutte is bloody, one side shredded up a bit, and for some reason that makes Changkyun so tremendously sad.

“You’re going to make this right,” Changkyun says. “They know you will.”

“I was so sure...so confident that EXO wouldn’t retaliate. I thought I understood Joonmyun. I didn’t think he’d--”

“Stop thinking,” Changkyun replies, pinching Kihyun’s lips shut with his fingertips. 

It’s the first time he’s touched Kihyun’s face. Kihyun doesn’t swat him away, but he does lean back and hiss, “What are you doing?”

“You’re in shock. You need to stop thinking,” Changkyun rambles, watching blood pooling at the wound in Kihyun’s ear. “It won’t help if you keep dark-tunneling.”

“You mean spiralling.”

“I never went to college, don’t judge my vocabulary. I said what I said.”

Kihyun’s lips give a weak twitch. “Dark-tunneling.”

Changkyun nods and grabs Kihyun’s hands to help him to his feet. Despite the stronger cadence of his voice, Kihyun’s body is still weak beneath him, and Changkyun has to help him hobble to the bathroom. Kihyun sits atop the closed toilet seat as Changkyun gets the water running for him.

“You act like you’ve helped someone clean off blood before.”

“I’m running on shock fumes here, Kihyun, don’t worry. I just get very fidgety when I’m nervous,” Changkyun admits.

“Were you really scared?”

Changkyun doesn’t turn, letting the water rush over his wrist to check the temperature. “I’m nervous because of you.”

“Why? Because I lead a gang of violent drug-smugglers?”

Changkyun huffs out an unsteady laugh. “Because you asked me to stay once and then kicked me out. Because I’m pretty sure you hate me. And also we’re now I guess we’re fucking the same person?”

Kihyun doesn’t say anything for a good minute. Changkyun can’t help the suspense of it, so he turns to face him again. The blood is slowing, but Kihyun still looks like a wide-eyed bloody mess. 

“If I hated you, why would I keep ordering your fucking chicken delivery, dumbass?” Kihyun says, finally, looking right at Changkyun like he’s in on a joke that Changkyun doesn’t understand. 

“Because you...love chicken?”

“And I for some reason or another cannot get it from one of the other hundreds of chicken delivery places in this damn city?” 

“You…” Changkyun still feels lost, words dangling from the tip of his tongue, just out of reach, taunting him. “Are teasing me?”

Kihyun stands, using the towel railing beside the toilet to steady himself. “Hoseok told me you can be pretty dense.”

“You guys talk about me?”

“Of course. You think he didn’t rub it in my face that he’s been fucking the cute chicken delivery boy that I’ve been wanting to fuck for months?”

“He. You. He,” Changkyun mumbles incoherently. 

Kihyun comes in close, leaning on the chipped porcelain edges of the sink, cornering Changkyun in against it, and he smells like hot iron and wet pennies and  _ oh, that’s blood _ , and Changkyun wants to be kissed so badly. 

“Your chicken isn’t  _ that _ good, Changkyun.”

“I’ll pass along the feedback.” Changkyun’s spit is gravel in his throat, and he can hardly draw breath around it. Up close, Kihyun is inhumanly gorgeous. Sharp. Deadly. “Our chef, Alejandro, is a good guy, but he could use a confidence knock-down. Thinks he’s some chicken  _ god _ or something.”

“Changkyun, I’m telling you I want to fuck you, and you’re ranting about Alejandro,” Kihyun points out. “Hoseok said you’d do this also.”

“This isn’t  _ tremendously _ uncomfortable for you?” 

“Why would it be?”

Changkyun can feel Kihyun’s thighs against his own, and it’s bizarrely erotic in a way clothed, lightly-touching thighs in a safehouse’s baby blue-tiled bathroom have no right to be. 

“Because you guys fuck, and we’ve fucked, and... Are you saying it’s okay that we all fuck?”

Kihyun laughs, lips just a breath away, and Changkyun is really aching for those kisses now. He’s sure it’s evident on his face, but Kihyun isn’t moving any closer. The shower is loud in the room, water pattering against the shower tiles hard. 

“More than okay.”

“Hoseok and I go on dates.”

“Hoseok and I also go on dates. We have since we were kids. Made our dads pretty uncomfortable, but they got over it.”

“Hoseok puts his dick in my butthole,” Changkyun throws in.

“I put my dick in Hoseok’s butthole,” Kihyun throws back. “Your point?”

“Will you fucking kiss me already?” 

Kihyun’s eyes scan his face for a split second before their lips meet. 

The taste of warm pennies is bright on his tongue, but behind that there’s Kihyun. Kihyun who kisses like he can reach inside and manipulate your every blood cell with his lips. His hands cup Changkyun’s jaw, tip his head back, and he  _ kisses _ . And kisses. And kisses. 

“I can’t believe you parked your bike to watch a warehouse explode with me,” Kihyun says, between kisses, what must be minutes later. 

“You underestimate how sexy you are in that kutte, Kihyun,” Changkyun replies, fisting the material of Kihyun’s blood shirt in his hands. 

“You are totally a biker bitch aren’t you?”

“I think in the beginning it was just,” Changkyun admits not wanting to separate their lips at all, “wanting to be accepted? I don’t know. When you told me to go home that one time, I felt something snap, and I realized I envied you. I envied the SoM for how much you love each other. It’s  _ palpable _ . And I wanted it so badly.”

“And then?”

“And then I ran into Hoseok in the grocery store, and he wanted me, and it felt ... really fucking good?”

“Being wanted by Hoseok is really special, you know that? He gives his heart easily, but he doesn’t let just anyone in. The fact that you aren’t a part of the family, and he took you home...that means something. To me, too.”

“You would’ve never made a move if he hadn’t first, would you?”

Kihyun shrugs and gives a brief shake of his head. “Probably not. I don’t like bringing in outsiders. And tonight is a good indication as to why.”

“But you kissed me.”

“I did.”

“So are you breaking your rule then?”

“I’m making an amendment to the rule, let’s say,” Kihyun replies. 

Changkyun teases beneath the hem of Kihyun’s shirt, and Kihyun shivers at the first touch of Changkyun’s cold fingers. Kihyun slides his kutte off and folds it atop the closed toilet seat. Changkyun eagerly grabs for his shirt, now free to be removed, and Kihyun helps him lift it up and off.

“How often do you make amendments, would you say? Ballpark estimation of amendments made?”

“Are you fishing for praise or genuinely curious?”

“Both.”

Kihyun whips Changkyun’s shirt over his head and grazes his teeth up the column of his throat, and Changkyun realizes he’s half-hard and sweating profusely. “You are adorable and yet somehow so sexy,” Kihyun breathes hot against Changkyun’s neck. “One time you forgot Hyunwoo’s drink, so you left to go get a bottle of Sprite from the convenience store across the street.”

“You remember that?”

“Yeah. You were wearing the jeans with the rips in the thighs. You can see the bottoms of your boxers through the holes, you know. Does your workplace have uniform policies? If so, you have broken them so many times.”

“I’m glad you appreciate the jeans. I changed into them after I left the store so my boss wouldn’t see.”

Kihyun snorts, and his nostrils flare, and Changkyun thinks he’s disgustingly aroused by it. “Devious little slut.”

“Yeah, but you can only call me that if you’re gonna fuck me. Otherwise I’m outie.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you,” Kihyun says, flicking the button of his jeans open and tugging the zipper down. He fishes out Changkyun’s half-hard cock and smears the precum down. 

“Your legs strong enough, or should I ride you?” Changkyun teases.

“Is that a serious query, or are you just trying to rile me up?”

“Both,” Changkyun says, reaching down to quickly pull Kihyun’s cock out so they can stroke each other in tandem. Their breathing is loud, even with the water still pounding against the tile behind them. 

“Shower first. Then I’ll decide.”

“Spontaneous.”

“Cleanliness first. Then spontaneity.” 

Kihyun pulls Changkyun into the shower after him. His face immediately wrinkles up as the hot water hits his injured ear, but he doesn’t move away from it, letting the water rinse out the blood. “My mom is gonna have my head for this ear thing.”

“I think that’s fair. It’s a motherly rite. Head for an ear.”

Kihyun laughs, looking fond. He grabs Changkyun by the shoulder, and Changkyun’s back is against the cold, foggy glass in an instant under the onslaught of kisses. “Glad I could do this before I’m beheaded.”

“Me too. If you somehow manage to live headless like a chicken or something, I’ll still ride you if you keep the kutte on.”

“Chicken still die after a couple minutes, you dumbass.”

“That’s the part you have a problem with?” Changkyun mutters, hands woven into Kihyun’s hair as he slides his leg up and around Kihyun’s waist, rutting their cocks together. It’s slippery and hot, and Changkyun kind of wishes Hoseok were here on his other side. More skin. More laughter. 

“I wish Hoseok were here,” Changkyun says aloud.

“Shameless. One isn’t enough?”

“Why have one when you can have two?”

“Does this apply to everything or just men?”

Changkyun grabs for Kihyun’s shampoo and dumps it out onto their heads with abandon. He digs his hands into Kihyun’s hair and rubs frantically, far too aroused to focus. “Men, hot dogs, and various other things I can’t think of right now with your dick so close to mine.”

“Later then. Tabled discussion topics.”

“Please just rinse out and throw me on the floor,” Changkyun says, shivering, as he watches Kihyun reach up to massage his dexterous fingers through Changkyun’s wet hair. “I might just cum from this.”

“From my shampooing?”

“Stop repeating everything I say as a question like you can’t believe how stupid I am. I know I’m stupid, but I am  _ stupidly aroused _ right now, and I’ve wanted you to fuck me for so fucking long, and I’m rapidly losing fucking vocabulary, and  _ oh fuck _ .” Changkyun’s head thunks back against the glass hard as Kihyun rubs behind his ears, where he’s sensitive. His cock twitches between his legs. He wasn’t exactly kidding when he said he might cum from this. 

“God, you’re so sexy when you’re rapidly losing vocabulary,” Kihyun says, yanking Changkyun under the spray of water so they can both rinse off. “Normally I condition, but I need to fuck you more at this moment than I need to have touchably soft hair.”

“Oh thank  _ fuck _ ,” Changkyun replies, shaking his head around like a dog to get the shampoo out beneath the water. He presses his thighs together, arousal thrumming through him like the vibrations of Hoseok’s bike, and Changkyun wants to fuck them on a bike. He wants to fuck them on a line of bikes all with their engines thrumming. He wants--

Kihyun grabs all three towels from the hooks beside the shower and then tugs Changkyun out to the bed. Before Changkyun can throw himself down needily, Kihyun gently drapes the towels down over the sheets. “We might have to sleep here, and I don’t want to lay in puddles.”

“I don’t cum  _ that _ much.”

Kihyun looks at Changkyun’s dripping wet hair, brow quirked. 

“Oh, you meant the water.”

“I did, but now I’m curious to test how much you can puddle,” Kihyun replies, shoving Changkyun down onto his back. Changkyun bounces on the old boxspring, and Kihyun climbs up after him, holding him down at the wrists over his head. “Do you like this, or are you a precious pillow baby like Hoseok?”

Changkyun wriggles beneath Kihyun, sliding the tip of his cock against Kihyun’s stomach and feeling the tightness of fingers around his wrists. “No, I like this. But maybe table the rougher stuff for when your arms aren’t literally quivering while you hold yourself over me?”

Kihyun sits back on his haunches, looking awkward and upset. Changkyun sits up and cups his face, nipping at his top lip. “I’m gonna ride you, so you can gather your strength and pin me against your bike and fuck me in the woods this weekend.”

“Oh, so this is happening again?”

Changkyun nervously glances away. Kihyun grabs him by the chin and tilts his face back. “Hey, I’m teasing. Hoseok and I have been talking about fucking you on a bike for weeks.”

“Thank fuck. Eventually that will make me cringe in horror, but for now. For now lay back, President Yoo.” Changkyun helps ease him so he’s propped up against the headboard. “Is there lube in this place?”

“Under the mattress by the footboard.”

“I don’t want to know how many of you have fucked on this bed.”

“This is a generational safehouse, Changkyun.”

“I don’t want to know about your grandfather’s sexcapades, dear God,” Changkyun whines, fishing out the bottle of lube. “Hold out your hand.”

“You want me to do it?”

“You massage my prostate as well as you massage my scalp, and I’m gonna want you to do it for the rest of our lives.”

“That was almost kind of romantic.”

“Added to the list of tabled discussions, thanks. Prepare me now, please. I’m moments from tears.”

“I’ll wait then.”

Changkyun smacks Kihyun’s chest, and they laugh. Changkyun imagines this is how he is with Hoseok too. They’re just easy to be with. Or maybe that’s just Changkyun. He’s sure Minhyuk would disagree. 

Changkyun sinks down onto Kihyun’s finger, quickly made two, and he was right. Kihyun does have masterful finger technique. He wonders if Kihyun plays an instrument. 

“You’re a mechanic, aren’t you?” Changkyun pants, lifting himself up and sinking down over and over, until the pressure feels less like pressure and more like familiar heat deep in his gut. 

“Yeah. Can you feel the callouses?”

“I feel something, that’s for sure,” Changkyun gasps out, reaching down to instruct Kihyun to add a third finger. He’s stretched, and his core is molten, and Kihyun won’t stop looking up at him with this reverence that feels misplaced, like he should be looking at a Degas or a newborn puppy. “Stop looking at me like that. I feel weird.”

“I’m just watching you move. You’re so fucking sexy.”

“Well--Well  _ ah _ , there, there, right there-- _ fuck _ \--”

Kihyun presses in just right, and Changkyun’s eyes prickle with tears because it’s so good, and it’s Kihyun, and Kihyun’s kutte is folded on top of a toilet seat, and Changkyun can’t wait to fuck him with it on someday because he was right and Kihyun fucks like the kind of guy who orders chicken while watching a warehouse explode.

“Get in me, please,” Changkyun hisses, lifting his hips and grasping needily for Kihyun’s cock. 

“Condom. Pillowcase,” Kihyun mutters, gritting his teeth as Changkyun jerks him off erratically while searching the pillow behind his head. Changkyun withdraws his hand triumphantly and rips open the condom packet. “Your hands are so soft  _ whatthefuck _ .”

“I deliver chicken for a living, not fix carburetors, of course they’re soft,” Changkyun replies, rolling the condom down over Kihyun’s cock and dousing it in leftover lube. He wants to hear it squelch inside him. He thinks Kihyun would like that, you know, since he’s the kind of sick fuck that orders chicken while watching a warehouse explode. 

“Name another car part.”

“Wheels.”

“Hmm,” Kihyun says, suspicious, but Changkyun seats himself quickly onto his dick, and Kihyun shuts up. 

“Rim. Steering wheel. Windshield. Engine. Brakes. Windshield wipers.”

“Stop naming car parts while I fuck you, please,” Kihyun whimpers, gripping onto Changkyun’s hips to control his movements. Kihyun’s knees bend, and he ruts up into Changkyun, meeting his thrusts harder and harder. 

“Sorry, sorry, just one more--I--have to prove a point--”

“Fine, go on,” Kihyun gasps, exasperated, as he wraps his hand around Changkyun’s cock and  _ tugs _ just right, and Changkyun just blurts, “H-Headlights” as he shudders and shakes and spills out over Kihyun’s warm, calloused hand. 

“Hope that was worth it,” Kihyun huffs, holding Changkyun up over his hips as he fucks up hard into him. Changkyun falls forward against his chest, and makes their lips meet over and over as he cries out in sensitivity. 

“Good, so good, so good, Kihyun,” Changkyun chants, gasping into Kihyun’s open mouth as Kihyun’s cock twitches inside him. 

“Wanna cum on you,” Kihyun grits out, rolling Changkyun onto his back. “O...Okay?”

Changkyun nods eagerly, helping pull off the condom and then tossing it onto the floor with a wet  _ slap _ onto the wood. Kihyun looks like he wants to get up and put it into the trash bin, but Changkyun starts stroking him with his slick hands, and Kihyun groans and spills his release out over Changkyun’s stomach and chest.

Changkyun luxuriates in it, rubbing it over his nipples and laughing as Kihyun stares at him in bewilderment. 

“Hoseok did say you could be a freak,” Kihyun says, after a moment, moving to lay beside Changkyun on the towels. 

“Yeah we fucked in my empty bathtub because I wanted to see if I could milk his prostate like in this porn I found.”

“And?”

“I’m sure you know the answer already. You two clearly share everything.”

“I do, but there’s something fascinating and disturbing about hearing these filthy words coming from your sweet face.”

“My face is not sweet.”

“Hmm,” Kihyun hums, smirking.

“So before...when you said you go on dates with Hoseok, and I said I also go on dates with Hoseok…”

Kihyun rolls onto his side, and Changkyun mirrors him, so they’re face to face on the towels. “Hoseok and I have always had a thing. We love each other. I share everything with him.”

“Including me?”

“If you want.”

“If you both wear your kuttes and only your kuttes, I will let you both put it in my butthole at the same time.”

Kihyun stares, openmouthed, for a quiet moment, before he releases a soft laugh. “Sorry I think I went to space for a second.”

“I know. My ass often takes people to space.”

“I think I need to sleep,” Kihyun also admits, eyelids heavy. 

“Let me bandage your ear first. It started bleeding on me at the end there.”

“I noticed but couldn’t stop.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Changkyun says, somehow managing to get off the bed. “First aid?”

“Under the sink.”

Changkyun pads over to the bathroom, stark naked, on wobbly sex legs, and grabs the little convenience store first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink. Kihyun is under the covers when he gets back, on his side, with his wounded ear facing up. 

“Just clipped the shell, looks like,” Changkyun says, tapping a blob of Neosporin onto the open wound and grimacing when Kihyun twitches in pain. “Sorry, it’s pretty ugly.”

“You still fucked me.”

“Sure did, and I’ll do it again, even with you all disfigured.”

Kihyun laughs sleepily, and Changkyun tapes the bandage over the curl of his soft tan ear. “Where’s your phone? I want to tell Hoseok we’re okay.”

Kihyun waves at the couch and then his hand falls with a flop to the bed as he sleeps.

[Hoseok 2:24am]: Minhyuk is okay. Asleep now. Kyunnie is with you?

[Kihyun 2:25am]: We’re fine. Changkyun is here and very sexy and we had sexy sex and when are you cumming tomorrow morning?

[Hoseok 2:25am]: …

[Hoseok 2:25am]: kyunnie where is ki

[Kihyun 2:26am]: asleep. I tired him out ;) and also he was shot :(

[Hoseok 2:26am]: what a combo. I’ll be there tomorrow at 9. Go sleep, kyunnie.

[Kihyun 2:27am]: You’re okay? We missed you.

[Hoseok 2:27am]: I’m fine. Make it up to me later.

Changkyun brings the phone into bed and falls asleep with Kihyun beside him, snoring softly and smelling of shampoo and sex and Neosporin. 

 

“Name another part,” Hoseok says, rubbing the soft skin below Changkyun’s ass. He’s on his knees behind him, spreading his cheeks and occasionally touching his tongue to the sensitive skin over his hole.

“H-Handlebars,” Changkyun whines, feeling the roaring engine of the bike beneath him, his bare cock on the vibrating leather seat. Hoseok licks into him, and Changkyun cries out, gripping at something metal he thought he knew the name of but now cannot recall the name of.

“You said that one already,” Kihyun replies, sliding his cock back between Changkyun’s lips as Hoseok aims a sharp slap to his left ass cheek and moves his glorious tongue away. 

Changkyun’s precum drips between his stomach and the seat as he wriggles in place. Kihyun fucks into his mouth until the world goes hazy at the edges, and there’s snot dripping onto his upper lip. Hoseok and Kihyun kiss over Changkyun’s body on the bike. 

Kihyun pulls out, and Changkyun gasps, “Cable! Throttle! Fender! I’m gonna cum,  _ fucking please _ let me cum, I studied my flash cards for like  _ twenty whole minutes _ earlier!”

“What do you think, Hoseokie?”

“Hmm, I guess we could be merciful.” He slips his cock into Changkyun’s slick hole, and Kihyun fucks back into his mouth, and Changkyun blacks out as one of them revs the engine and changes the vibrations for that split second. Everything in his body shakes at once as he comes, and then falls still.

Hoseok eases him off the bike and Kihyun kneels beside them on the floor in the garage, kissing Changkyun’s sweaty forehead. “Good boy.”

And then he kisses Hoseok in the same place. “And a Gooder Boy.”

Changkyun snorts. “Gooder isn’t a word.”

“It’s a word for people who do what I ask.”

“I did do what you ask. It’s hard for me to concentrate on bike parts in the moment. My brain just goes  _ cockcockcockcockwowowowowgoodgoodgoodgood _ . You’re lucky I even managed to get three words out from those flashcards.”

Kihyun sighs and kisses Changkyun on the lips. “I have to go meet Joonmyun. Hoseok, please clean this freak and order some chicken.”

“Why do you still order chicken when I’m already here? Is there a new delivery boy you wanna schtup?”

Kihyun tugs on his jeans, his t-shirt and kutte still on from before. Changkyun hasn’t managed to get him to wear only the kutte during sex, but they’re getting close. “No, but we’d both love it if you took the chicken from the new guy at the door and then pretended to deliver it to us.”

“Should I put on  _ the jeans _ ?”

Hoseok kisses behind Changkyun’s ear. “You bet, baby.”

“Come back soon!” Changkyun yells as Kihyun toes at the kickstand of his Harley and eases it out of the garage. “He doesn’t expect us to clean the sex bike, right?”

“Us?”

Changkyun looks at the pool of his own cum drying into the leather bike seat. “Ew.”

“See you upstairs, honey!” Hoseok chimes from the door that leads inside from the garage.

“ _ Nappeun namja _ ,” Changkyun hisses to himself.

 

One day, four months later, Changkyun wakes up in Hoseok’s bed, and it’s four am. Kihyun is coming through the front door, exhausted and sweaty, and Changkyun sits up and holds his arms out.

“Everything okay?” he whispers, careful not to wake Hoseok, who is sound asleep beside him in the king size bed. 

“Yeah. EXO agreed to the cut of the weapons deals if we leave them be, and YG agreed to seek new territory elsewhere. I had to offer them a cut of our deals and promise not to enter their territory too, but if it means no more literal shoot outs at SHOOT OUT, then I’m fine.”

“You’re a good leader, Kihyun,” Changkyun says, smooching Kihyun’s cheek as he climbs into bed on Changkyun’s other side. 

“I’m handing over Presidency to Hyunwoo, actually,” Kihyun admits nervously. 

“Why do you sound scared?”

“Aren’t you aroused by my leadership?”

“I’m aroused by your mental and physical wellbeing.”

“You mean it?”

Changkyun rolls his eyes in the darkness of Hoseok’s bedroom. “I’m grateful to that one night of horrible violence and terror for bringing us together, but if we never have to fuck in the aftermath of trauma, I will be eternally happy.”

“I’m still in the gang, Changkyun. Just not the President.”

“I know.”

“So you admit it’s my fault that we were shot at.”

“As President, I’m sure you understand why I would insinuate such a thing.”

“In the morning, I’m tying you to the showerhead and running the cold water.”

“So you’ve threatened before.”

“Guys, you know I love your sassafras banter, but I have to rewire an entire elementary school’s electrical system tomorrow.”

“Love you too, Hoseokie.”

“Love you both.”

“I meant what I said about the shower,” Kihyun whispers against his neck as he spoons Changkyun between him and Hoseok.

“ _ Nappeun namja _ .”

 

At the next Potluck dinner, Changkyun pretends to deliver chicken, even though Kihyun and Hoseok are helping pay for him to go to technical school to get his graphic design certification. For old time’s sake.

Everyone cheers, and Changkyun performs a celebratory stanky leg on the new pool table that has a shiny new plaque on the top that says _In Honor of_ _Changkyun’s Mom_ , despite Changkyun protesting that she isn’t dead, she just lives in Rhode Island now. 

Kihyun slings an arm around Changkyun’s waist and Hoseok slings an arm around Changkyun’s shoulders and someone takes a dumb polaroid that Changkyun is convinced will be blurry because he’s crying, and if his vision is blurry, then the camera’s must be too.

Changkyun is crying, and everyone is cooing at him like a child, but everything is warm in the rebuilt saloon, now redubbed THE SPOTLIGHT by chapter President Hyunwoo who thinks they may have incited violence by naming it SHOOT OUT in the first place. 

Changkyun is crying, and he has a seat at the table beside Hyunwoo’s son in his little polo shirt, and it’s  _ his _ seat, and he thinks... he’s so glad he answered the phone that first time over a year ago when Kihyun said, “Thirteen orders of soy garlic and two crispy honey, please.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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